


the steps you take before you fall

by Kuuji



Category: RWBY
Genre: Biker Gang AU, Drug and Alcohol Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Mentions of past abuse, Organized Crime, Yangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-04-05 06:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19042840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuuji/pseuds/Kuuji
Summary: Yang pulls her bike over in the rain, runs under an awning for cover when she sees her there. A faunus, decked in all black, shivering in the downpour. She knows she'll get an earful from Raven later about this and curses herself for having too big of a heart."Are you ok?" Gold looks up to meet her eyes."No. I'm not."





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, you ok?”

Yang faults herself for having too big of a heart. There's a girl slumped up against the dumpster in the rain wearing nothing but a black Cami and some jeans of the same color that are doing little to protect her from the elements. Her mascara's running black streaks down her face and she looks cold, shivering against the cheap metal of the trash bin, the cat ears on top her head pressed firmly down and back. It’s the tinny sound her shivers are making that alerted Yang to her presence to begin with, and she's completely soaked through. At least Yang’s got a thick hoodie on underneath her leather jacket, hood high, keeping her ears warm.

The faunus girl doesn’t look up at first. It’s like she hadn’t heard her at all. Her heart breaks at the sight; no one should be outside freezing alone right now, certainly not at this hour, and certainly not someone as young looking as her. 

Yang kneels down on a knee, starts getting her pants all wet. This is stupid, she chides herself. She’d just pulled off to have some alone time; maybe a quick smoke. Now she was trying to help some near catatonic girl in the alleyway behind a broken down bowling alley. She'll definitely get an earful later if anyone finds out. She asks her question again. 

“No. I’m not.” Yang’s startled by how quiet her voice is. It’s like a flute cut in half, a bird without wings. Something’s missing. She finally matches eyes with her, sees them, sees the dull faded gold of her gaze; it needs polished, needs care. 

“Let’s get you outta the rain first.” Yang leans closer to her, tries to put a hand on her shoulder. The girl pulls away violently, with a desperation, her black hair soaked, stuck to her face. There’s fear in her eyes; Yang recognizes the signs. She's not shaking just from the cold. They each take a breath before Yang speaks again, the nearby light flickering in and out of life, electricity humming through the rain. 

“I ain’t gonna hurt you.” She says quietly, holds her hands back in deference, pleads with her eyes. The girl seems to acquiesce. Yang manages to get a hand on her shoulder, helps her up, walks her under the metal awning of the abandoned loading dock. The rain's louder under the old rusty awning and it sounds like someone tapping incessantly against the metal and there's scrap and trash everywhere; this girl didn't pick the nicest place to come crying. 

“Cigarette?” Yang offers, slides the pack out of her pocket with a lighter. The girl shakes her head aggressively. She doesn’t blame her; it’s a nasty but guilty habit she indulges in when no one else is around. 

She pats the box roughly against her palm, feels the girl’s gaze on her as she does so. She's watching Yang's every move like a predator- more like an injured wolf, wary of every movement and smell. 

“Do you need a place to stay?” She asks, takes a puff, watches the smoke disappear into the cold air. 

“You’re just a stranger.” The girl says it and it’s colder than the fall chill around them. Yang almost feels hurt. She's just trying to help, though she gets it. She's some random girl decked out in a biker jacket with tattoos crawling up her neck. Not exactly unintimidating. 

“Likewise.” Another puff, another response. It’s hard to see in the dark. This part of the city isn’t well tended and the lights barely work; they’re surrounded by abandoned structures with broken windows and graffiti, frequented by gangs and all sorts of criminal activity. She thinks she sees bruises on her arm, but she needs more light to be sure. “You’ll freeze to death out here though.” 

The other girl clearly agrees, though she doesn’t say anything in response. Yang can see the goosebumps on her arm, even with her shivering. She looks like an old porcelain doll, left uncared for in someone's basement. 

“C’mon. My bike’s over there. I can drive you home. No problem.”

The girl shakes her head. There’s something about it; some underlying degree, a motive, and Yang suddenly realizes there’s no ‘home’ to return to. 

“There’s a homeless shelter on the other side of town.” Maybe a different suggestion will work. “It’s warm at least.” 

“No- I can’t-” It’s easily the most info Yang’s gotten from her so far. “... he might look for me there.” 

Yang takes a prolonged drag on her cigarette. Just those few words spoke volumes. The puzzle's coming together, and she's suddenly furious at a man she's never met. 

“The police?”

The girl laughs. “Not an option.”

Understandable. 

“My gang’s in the trailer park, ‘bout 20 minutes from here. Can you make that?” Yang says it with no hesitation. It's not the best option. Not at all. But she can't let this girl die out here. 

“... what gang?” The girl’s voice is quiet, her eyes are trained on the cracked cement. Yang watches the ears on her head flick up, alert. 

“Murder of Crows. It’s a dumb name but the boss won’t change it.” Yang can’t help but chuckle. God, it’s a stupid name. But she was even stupider for being a member. “Stubborn bitch.” 

She wonders if this girl’s heard of them. It’s not the most infamous gang around; Raven makes sure only the people who need to know, _know_. That, and the group hasn't been to Vale in a long time though. They were better known in Mistral, their permanent stomping grounds, but Vernal had found a killer buyer in Vale; the gang would be rolling in cash for a long time. Vale was having a serious shortage of drugs, apparently. 

“I…” The girl breathes deep and her breath comes out in grey clouds, almost covers her face. “Just for the night. You- promise me it’s safe.” 

Yang looks down, catches her gaze, catches the desperation in her eyes, all of her anxiety. This girl needs a win. Needs shelter. 

“Promise. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. And hey...” Yang douses her cigarette against cold wet metal. It sizzles and the smoke disappears into the night. “... you don’t have to come with me, ok? I'm not gonna force you.”

“You better not be lying.” She says coldly, sighing out a cloud as she shivers. It's reasonable. 

The girl shivers, coughs in the night air. She's catching something for sure. There's probably some cold medicine in the camp somewhere at least. “I’ll go with you. Anything’s better than dying out here.”

Yang can’t argue with that, gives her a nod. “I'm just parked over here. You oughta put this on though.” 

She takes off her leather jacket, smiles at the golden dragon stitched onto the back, the Chinese characters wrapped around it, and hands it to the girl freezing in front of her. “It'll keep you warm for now.”

Eventually the girl grabs Yang’s jacket and puts it on, despite her obvious trepidation. Desperation overpowers any anxiety about it, survival instincts too powerful. It’s probably a trick of the flickering light, but she looks warmer already. At least she won’t die in the cold. 

“T-thanks.” She mumbles through chattering teeth. “Are you gonna be warm enough?”

“It's not far.” Yang shrugs. She starts leading her to where her Triumph's parked; it's her pride and joy, affectionately named Bumblebee, after the yellow highlights she painted onto the black decor. “I don't have an extra helmet though, so just uh, hold on tight.”

“... Ok.” Mystery girl clearly doesn't like that idea, but it's the only option. She lights up the ignition, feels the heat radiate out of the engine and smiles. Bumblebee's always purred nicely. 

Yang gets on, revs the bike and gestures for the girl to hop on behind her. She'd be lying if she said her heart didn't go fifteen beats faster when she wrapped her arms around her waist, or when she felt her breath on the back of her neck, felt her heart pounding against her ribs, threatening to break.

“D-don't crash ok?” The girl stutters, and it sounds like she's trying to crack a joke. Yang smiles. Hopefully her spirits are feeling lighter now that she's about to get some shelter. 

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Yang responds with a happy lilt before taking off into the darkness. Vale's a textbook city that doesn't sleep. The skyscrapers around them are still alight despite the hour, proud companies that got fat off the little man sticking their logos and signs wherever they can. There's plenty of people still out on the roads and she doesn't need to be able to see her to know that the girl is watching every car, cataloging every face. She's looking for someone. Probably for the unnamed bastard she'd briefly mentioned. Yang feels her anger spike again just thinking about it. The world already had too many shitty men.

They get to the trailer park in the city's outskirts a little over 25 minutes later; it’s hard to be anywhere on time in the rain, and Yang didn't want to go too fast in case it gave poor mystery girl a heart attack. The girl’s got her arms wrapped tight around Yang. She pulls in, shifts the gears, stops the bike next to Raven and Vernal’s. 

“Temporary home sweet home.” Yang says with a sigh, taking off her helmet. She felt bad that she couldn’t offer the other girl hers, but she needed it to see their way back ok. Her black haired companion looks absolutely frozen right now; luckily for her, there’s a big ass bonfire lit like a hellflame in the center of the camp, as well as plenty of beds available for rest. Yang's already planning on offering hers.

The area's crowded, packed with people and motorcycles. It's hard not to get accidentally blinded by the fire reflecting off all of the chrome. 

“Here.” She gets off with Yang, tries to give her her leather jacket back. 

“What? It’s still raining, I can’t take this back.” She protests, which isn’t surprising; she comes across as strong willed, maybe stubborn to a fault. Of course it’s raining; but Yang’s a lot less damp than mystery girl is.

“C’mon, don't worry. The fire’s plenty warm.” 

“It's certainly big enough.” Blake says with a bit of a droll, a pinch of sarcasm. “Is it really ok if-”

“Hey, you’re not supposed to bring flings here blondie.” A fair haired man walks up; Yang knows him, and she doesn’t like him. He’s missing a tooth and she remembers every second of causing its loss. She feels Blake's eyes narrow behind her, feels her drop into a aggressive posture like an injured predator. 

“Good thing she’s not a fling then huh?” She walks in front of the girl protectively, sensing her understandable discomfort. “Back off.” 

He knows better than to mess with her and walks away with a shrug, an already open bottle of beer in hand. Most of the gang's partying; drinks in one hand, cigarettes, cigars, and whatever else in the other, about fifty people altogether. The music's loud and blaring, offensive, all growling epithets and explicit guitar solos, rap verses about freedom, twisted self determination. There's other people in the park too, but no one's ballsy enough to try and call the cops on them; that, and Raven's got the land owner firmly in her pocket. 

Plenty of the fuzz too, probably. 

“What is all this?” The girl asks. She’s scared, even though Yang can tell she's trying to keep her shoulders back and chin up; reasonably so. Bikers are strange; _real_ bikers are scary. The camp’s littered with people in leather jackets, emblazoned with black and red birds, bandanas and chains. She found the gang’s name to be stupid, but at least it was appropo. 

“Nothing to worry about; just a party really. We got into town yesterday so people are letting loose.” There’s not much of a point in explaining things to this girl. She’ll probably take off in the morning, or Yang will at least drop her off somewhere. She’s not about to let her rot high and dry. 

The girl speaks, in the same quiet tone she has all night. Her ears stoop. “I’ve known gangs.”

Yang mentally rattles off a list of Vale’s big gangs to herself. None of them are particularly nice. There's Winchester's goons, the Black Widows, and of course the White Fang was still trucking along strong. Hopefully Blake's never had any business with any of them. They're all nasty, and they're all competition. None of them are gonna be happy about their recent big score. 

“Hey, what’s your name?” She asks and feels like it’s a normal question. She’s helping her after all, and even though Yang doesn’t ask for a lot in return, she’d like to at least know her name. The other girl stares for a moment, weighs a scale, measures the pros and cons. She's conflicted about it, clearly. 

“Blake.” She finally says. Yang can barely hear her over the partying, but she's convinced there couldn't be a more appropriate name for this girl she'd only just met. 

“I’m-”

“Yang.” She’s cut off before she can give Blake her name by Raven, who’s looking as intimidating as ever, decked in all black, eyes red as burning coals, skull bandana wrapped around her bicep in a matching shade. Blake does a double take, which isn’t surprising. Their resemblance is striking, as striking as white against black, stark, but similar. Sometimes it’s sickening. She's got a glass of something dark and strong smelling in her hand, neat, as always. “... who’s this?” 

“Blake.” Yang responds quickly. Raven doesn’t let things go easily, and she makes a point to keep tabs on everything. “She just needs a place to stay for the night.” 

“This isn't a halfway home.” Raven's displeasure isn't surprising. She's got her eyes trained on Blake, who's clearly uncomfortable under the pressure. It's probably matched only near the bottom of the ocean. Yang thinks she sees something that might be sympathy on Raven's face as she judges Blake, just a flicker, but she's always hard to read. It's impossible to tell. Yang's known her for two years now; she's cold, always calculating something, always trying to figure out how to play people, how to lay out escape routes through others. Contingencies. Even her own daughter. 

“Have you at least offered her a drink?” Raven eventually laughs and swirls the liquid in her glass around, gives Blake one more glance. It's less a look and more a command; you can stay, but do _not_ fuck with me. 

“I'll get right on it.” Yang replies, her tone snide as she pulls Blake away with her, marching closer to the fire. She can hear Raven chuckling behind her. 

“Safe to assume she's in charge?” Blake asks, prodding the question carefully. She sneaks a worried glance over her shoulder. 

“Yeeep.” She pops the p, sighs, diverts the topic. “Do you want something to drink? There's pretty much every alcohol under the sun here.”

“Um. Just some water would be ok.” Blake's soaking up the heat from the fire eagerly, hands out nearby the flames. No one pays them any mind really, except for a few people giggling behind their hands, thinking they're being stealthy. They probably think Blake's a hook up like dumb, blond and toothless from earlier, which she can't really fault them for assuming. She knows she has a reputation, even if it's mostly false. 

“Hey, no need to be modest. You can have whatever you want, seriously.” 

“Just water.” Blake repeats it, this time with force. Yang decides to drop it. She leaves to go grab them beverages and is surprised when Blake's still following her. 

“Hey, stay by the fire. I'll be right back.”

Blake looks around the camp, pulls Yang’s jacket tighter around her shoulders as if it will keep her safe. She struggles to get her words out, like she's ashamed. “I really don't want to be alone.”

“Oh.” Yang says, feeling like a moron. Of _course_ Blake didn't want to be alone; she was surrounded by gangsters in a place she wasn't familiar with that she was taken to by a complete stranger. There was nothing normal about this situation; realistically it had the trappings of a kidnapping. Her months on the road had made her complacent with the strange lifestyle. “Cooler's over this way.” 

They walk over, Blake practically riding her heels. 

“She looks a lot like you.” Blake states the obvious, clearly hoping Yang will elaborate. 

“Raven? Yeah, she's my mom. Technically.” There's a modicum of spite in her tone. 

“Oh.” Blake's surprised. “Didn't know biker gangs were a family business.” Yang snorts. 

“Well, the rest of my family doesn't exactly approve.” Yang tries to say it with a light heart, but a familiar shroud of guilt seems to come over her. She makes a mental note to try and get a hold of Ruby tomorrow; she hasn't talked to her sister in a week and she misses her voice. 

They reach the big ass cooler and Yang rummages around through half melted ice to try and find a bottle of water, which, much to her disappointment, seems to elude her. Bikers aren't too concerned with hydration it seems. 

“Uh, here,” She says, opening a bottle of the weakest beer she can find, a coors, against the body for the cooler. “Looks like that's the closest thing to water we've got. I guess I can try and get some sink water…" 

“Its fine." Blake takes it, though she's clearly not happy about it. Her tone is far from appreciative. Yang gets it; she's cold and vulnerable. She probably doesn't want to risk getting buzzed amongst a bunch of intimidating strangers. She's probably not even sure if she can trust Yang yet. "... thank you."

Yang grabs something a little stronger herself and tries to lighten the mood. Something about Blake makes the effort seem worthwhile. 

“Wanna see something cool?” Yang acts before Blake can actually decide. She opens up the beer bottle with her bare hands, flips the cap skillfully off of her thumb once it's free into an overflowing trash bin nearby. Blake pauses. 

“I'm still waiting.” Blake says it with a smile and it's a devastatingly sick burn. 

“That was _savage_. At least pretend to be impressed.” Yang laughs, gestures faux hurt. 

She's shocked when Blake actually plays along. Maybe it's cause she's tired and delirious from the cold. “Oh, I'm _so_ very impressed. I wonder what else those hands can do…”

Yang's happy that she brightened Blake's mood but she sincerely worries that her blush is visible even in the darkness. They walk back over to the fire where most everyone else is, chatting, playing darts and poker, watching the rain evaporate into steam the second it hit the flames (Yang had done that once while tripping on shrooms; it was awesome). She's pretty sure she has some lying around and considers offering Blake some, before punching her brain for conjuring up such a terrible idea. Blake doesn't need to be high off her ass; she just needs a safe place to crash and someone to watch her back. Maybe a little cash later. Yang can provide both. 

They're sitting next to each other in silence close to the bonfire when Yang realizes how pretty Blake is, and thinks about how much prettier she must look when she's not under duress. Her black hair's like fine silk, and it has a blue sheen to it in the light, slight, gorgeous, the trappings of dusk. The golden eyes she'd seen before are brighter now; there's an understated luster to them, a warmth piercing through her cool gaze, something priceless and rare. 

She's also definitely weak for her curves and notes how much she'd like to see even more of them- 

Nope. There goes her brain again, being a stupid idiot. 

“Thank you.” Blake breaks the silence first. “I- I'd probably be hiding in a dumpster right now if you hadn't found me.”

Yang's heart shatters into a million pieces. Everytime she remembered the cruelty of Blake's situation she wants to scream for her, cry for her, hold her and help her forget this mess ever happened. 

“No need to thank me.” Yang tries to shrug it off. “Do you uh… have any family you can contact? Any friends you can maybe crash with tomorrow?”

Regret sets in as she watches Blake sink into herself. 

“No.” It's a soul crushing response. “But I'll figure something out. I'm no charity case.”

"I don't doubt it." Yang blurts out the next sentence before she can stop herself: “we'll be here for a few more weeks at least. Maybe longer. You could stay here.”

Blake's got a shocked look on her face, shifts slightly away from her rescuer. Yang's crazy embarrassed. 

“I don't think that's a good idea.” Blake says it under her breath while glancing around the camp, watching everything very closely. Her ears pivot to every noise out of place. 

“I know it's… not conventional, but you really will be safe. I've got sway around here. People will be at your beck and call if I say so.”

Yang meant for it to ease Blake's tension, but the girl shys away from her, eyes laden with suspicion. She watches as the mysterious girl trains her gaze on Raven, who's nearby, chatting and laughing with a few of the gangsters. There's a moment where the gang leader looks over and matches Blake's stare, smirks, challenges, and Yang can see her shiver visibly. If she didn't know how stupid of an idea it would be, she'd have marched over and kicked Raven in the stomach. She does know better though. 

“Don't worry about her.” Yang reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder and just barely stops herself. “Sorry, uh, is it ok if I touch you?” 

Blake's got a look on her face like she's shocked that Yang had asked, like no one usually allows such courtesy. Her nod's slight, but it's there. Yang goes forward and puts a comforting hand on Blake's shoulder, squeezes her gently. 

“I… know we just met. But I wanna help you Blake. And I promise, if you stay here for a few extra days, _no one_ is going to hurt you.”

She can tell Blake wants other options; wants to stay anywhere other than a cardboard box or a park infested with bikers. Maybe she should have offered to buy her a hotel room or something. Yang tries not to take it personally. 

“Fine.” Blake's shoulders loosen a bit, though she's still tense, still fearful. “Just until I figure something out though.”

Yang tries not to flash a beaming smile. She doesn't know why; she _really_ doesn't, but there's something about Blake, something hidden under the surface that's drawing her in. It's stronger than gravity, more natural than the rain around them, whatever it is. It's probably wishful thinking to assume Blake feels the same fantastical feelings. 

“What have I gotten myself into…” She hears Blake mumbles under her breath, cursing her dire situation, the impossibility of it. It's quiet for a moment, between them at least. The gang's having the time of their life, and Yang watches one guy get a bottle smashed across his head head and collapse to the ground while everyone around him cheers. He's probably fine. 

Yang coughs loudly. Maybe she can take Blake's mind off of things, because Blake clearly doesn't find the rough-housing quite as funny as Yang does. Blake’s got a generalized look of disgust on her face as she watches a girl puke into a trench. “Hey uh, you warming up? You're definitely not shivering as much.”

Blake smiles, _just_ slightly, and it makes her heart flip. She answers through a yawn. “I thought I'd never be warm again. This fire is heaven.”

Yang grins proudly. “Honestly, nothing like a big ass fire on a chilly fall night.”

“You do this often?” 

“Sometimes. Who doesn't love dousing some old wood in kerosene? The landowner here doesn't care.”

“Yeah, I don't think that's a very common hobby, Yang.” Yang tries not to blush when Blake says her name. It sounds right when she says it. She looks at her, tries to soak in as much of her golden eyes as she can, loving the way they warm her chest. 

“Well, then most people are idiots.” Yang snorts and flicks Blake playfully against her shoulder. The other girl smiles, lets out a sigh brimming with tension, starts to finally relax, albeit only slightly. There are walls around her, mighty ones carved out of rock and stone. 

“Yeah. Most people are.”

Blake yawns again, and she's struggling to finish her beer. Yang can see the sleep in her eyes, the bags hiding underneath her smudged makeup, all black and dark like powdered ash. It's shocking she's awake at all; it's easily two in the morning now. 

“Wanna get some sleep? I'll find a washcloth too, we can get you cleaned up.” 

“Honestly…” Blake says, and her voice is slight and soft. “Just a bed sounds nice.”

Yang had her own trailer, being Raven's daughter and all. Some of the others had been mad about the privilege that position brought her, but she shut them up promptly. With force, if necessary. A story lives behind every scar on her fists. 

There was only one bed, so she'd insisted that Blake sleep in it, even scrounged up some extra blankets for her. She’ll simply doze off in an old chair with hideous upholstery and hope that Blake wouldn't find the conditions too unsavoury. It isn’t the nicest trailer park in the world by any means, unrenovated, a relic of the early 80s, but it was shelter, and it beat roughing it without a tent. 

She stays up even later to make sure Blake falls asleep and doesn't need anything, pulling out her phone and playing a meaningless game. It takes a full hour for Yang to hear her breathing go steady and slow, for her shrouded form to move up and down gently in a comfortable cadence. 

She smiles, sets her phone down on the chair's arm. 

"Night, Blake.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ I'm thrilled people are liking the story so far! I was worried it would be too edgy ™️. Anyways here's chapter two! Descriptions of violence ahead.

Blake wakes up before Yang, just like she'd hoped; being a naturally early riser has its perks. This is her best opportunity; maybe her only opportunity. Yang's still in the trailer, snoring quietly with her mouth wide open, a hand lazily draped over her stomach. More importantly, the keys to her motorcycle are sitting on an old vanity with a broken mirror near her. She's no biker but she's driven before; as long as Yang's bike wasn't weird or abnormal she'd manage. 

She moves silently, carefully measuring the weight behind each step, shifting her balance to prevent making noise in the old trailer. Blake grabs the keys with a discarded shirt she'd found on the floor to keep them from jingling, keeping her eyes split between them and Yang. There's three keys on the ring, as well as a small silver dragon charm and a small rose bud. Weird tastes, Blake thinks. 

She slides them into Yang's leather jacket, (she'd slept in it, somehow, must have been more tired than she thought), packs them tightly against her body. She manages to get the janky door open without waking Yang, who's still content in her dreams on the chair. She tries not to take a second look back at her, tries not to think about how she’s betraying her trust and kindness. Some things are more important. 

The morning air is frigid and there's a thick fog rolling into the trailer park. It's eerie, and she can't see further than ten feet in front of her. Every breath feels damp, cold, like swimming underwater. Fall is coming, and it turns Vale into a swamp. 

"Just my luck…" She curses. Thankfully she remembers where Yang left her fancy looking bike the night prior. Blake turns to move, steps on a piece of glass, a shard from a beer bottle, by accident and shatters it. 

“Where are you going?” 

Blake's so startled she nearly sheds her skin. Her eyes and ears move faster than light. There's a pair of red eyes staring her down, cold, crow's feet tense and narrowed. Raven takes a long drag on her cigarette and sighs as she exhales, waiting for a response. 

Blake scans the camp rapidly and her golden eyes dart about like fireflies; she never feels Raven's gaze leave her. No one else seems to be awake, which makes all the logical sense in the world. The party last night had gone on for _hours_ and hours. No one wanted to be awake in the fog after such an affair. 

No one except Blake and the intimidating woman before her. 

“Said it yourself last night.” Blake swallows hard, tries to find some courage. “This isn't a halfway house. I can't stay here.”

“It's rather rude to leave without saying goodbye.” Raven paces, taps the end of her cigarette, never letting her blood red eyes stray from Blake's chilled form. 

The faunus curses herself as she feels her hands shaking. It's the morning cold, she tells herself. Not fear. The embers from the cigarette sizzle softly on the wet earth. 

“I thanked her.” Blake says it quickly. There's no structure to it though, no support. She doesn't buy it as a valid excuse and neither does Raven. An agonizingly long moment passes as Raven breathes in fetid smoke again, letting it out in another low sigh. She extends her hand to Blake, making her jump.

“I don't care if you leave. But you'll hand the keys to Yang’s motorcycle over.” 

“How did you-” Blake starts, a hand reaching unconsciously towards where she'd stashed Yang's keys into her jacket. She'd taken such careful care, tucked them away safely; there was no way she'd heard them jingle. 

“Well, I wasn't certain you had them. But now I am.” Raven chuckles wickedly and Blake can only curse herself. 

It seems like for a second the gang leader's hard expression softens. Blake crooks a brow. If she had blinked she would have missed it. “Yang's never had the best judgement in others.” 

“You don't-” Know me, Blake wants to say, you don't know what I went through, but Raven cuts her off, not interested in what Blake has to say. 

"The keys, please." She asks again. It sounds a lot more like a command. 

Blake doesn't have a lot of options. She could make a break for it; try to run to Yangs motorcycle, turn the keys in, shift the gears, see through the fog- but Raven would catch her. She can see it in her eyes, red and threatening. It's almost like she's goading her. 

"Ok." Blake says. She reaches into the pockets and deposits them in Ravens hand, noting how cold the woman feels to the touch, even in the frigid weather. 

"Hm." Raven hums, dangling the keys in front of her eyes. Her expression turns ice cold when she sees the rose hanging off of it. She takes it off and pockets it. 

"Hey-" Blake begins. There's something about the charm, something about the fact that Yang took the time to put it there, that makes Blake angry that Raven has removed it. The gang leader just laughs, and Blake cant think of any come back. 

"Are you really one to talk?" Raven spits out. She mumbles something under her breath that Blake can’t hear and walks past her without another word, vanishing into the fog. 

Blake shivers and pulls Yang’s jacket tightly against her. It feels wrong to take comfort in the warmth it’s giving her now, considering that she was about to steal it on top of Yang’s motorcycle. She tries to relax, tries to hold back her sobs but one gets out, escapes her. Part of her wishes it was loud enough to wake Yang up, but the moments pass silently and she’s still alone. Raven is nowhere to be seen either. 

She catches her breath and re-enters the trailer, the handle of the door damp and cold. Yang’s right where she left her, with the smallest little trickle of drool falling out of the corner of her mouth. 

“What a weird girl.” Blake says quietly, watching the blond’s chest rise and fall. She sits down on the edge of the bed and sighs, eyes still trained on Yang. She’s got colorful tattoos snaking up her neck, but Blake can’t quite make them out; she’s got a hoodie on covering up most of the details. She easily has some of the prettiest hair Blake’s ever seen and she’s not entirely convinced it’s not made out of gold. It doesn’t seem right, that someone so kind and beautiful is working with such a group, or that her mother is the cold hearted bitch she’d run into earlier. But the resemblance is undeniable. It gives her a sick feeling in her stomach. What if Yang’s no better than they are? Than he was? 

_Might as well go back to sleep._ She’s definitely still tired, and fighting her drooping eyelids is too much effort. Blake shrugs off the jacket, immediately misses its warmth, the faint smell of lavender and cigarette smoke on it. She thinks it over for a few seconds and stands back up, gently draping the jacket over Yang’s body. She wrinkles her nose in response, but doesn’t wake up. 

Yang’s attractive, even asleep, Blake thinks, before scolding herself. There isn’t any allowance for daydreaming right now, even though she’s certain the biker is interested; she’s not blind, she saw the way Yang looked at her last night. She wants to let her imagination free, thinks about how she would love the fantasy of a relationship that wasn’t cruel, abusive. She knows better though. 

She’ll think of something else later, another escape, but for now, she can’t help but feel that she’s perfectly safe in Yang’s presence. 

~~~~~~

Yang wakes up, notes that Blake’s still asleep, and sneaks out, not wanting to wake her up. Mystery girl deserves to sleep in as far as she's concerned. It's another cold morning, and there's a light fog hanging above the ground. Fall is in full swing and winter won't be far behind it. It makes riding difficult, but Yang can't help but be excited about the future snow, about the happy memories of making snow people with her sister, snowball fights in Patch. 

No one else is up yet except Raven, though there's a few gang members passed out on the ground. There's trash everywhere and it smells like tobacco and cheap booze; some unfortunate bikers will get tasked with cleanup later. She's at the now extinguished bonfire pit, smoking a cigarette and staring at the grey and black charcoal left behind. Yang runs her tongue across her lips, tries to decide if she wants to tackle this beast right now or not. 

Yang's long since given up trying to sneak up on her. Raven's no psychic, but she just seems to know things sometimes. She's just a few steps away when she speaks. 

“Yang.” 

“Mom.”

Raven doesn't move her gaze as she passes Yang a cigarette and her lighter. She takes it, even as she mentally chides herself for doing so; she tries to keep it at a minimum, even though she knows she oughta just quit. But Raven's always up early having a smoke; it's the only time she does, but she always offers Yang one if she comes by, and never to anyone else. There's no way she could say no. 

Her form of sick motherly love apparently. 

"I put your keys on your bike. You must have left them outside last night."

"Thanks."  
Yang finds that hard to believe. She's never without her keys; her bike is far too important. 

“I get the feeling that girl is going to be with us longer than just last night.” Raven says sternly as she takes an extended drag. 

Yang’s got her hand cupped around her mom's lighter; it's an old fancy one, all metal, bronze and silver, lights her American Spirits and hers alone. There's long faded initials carved into the surface, RB and TX. “Can she?”

“I told you this isn't a halfway house.” Raven sighs, gives Yang a _look_. She thinks Yang's soft; the whole gang thinks she's soft. 

“Some guy was beating on her.” Yang states it simply. She's smart enough to have put two and two together. Blake's state, her desire to not be found, the bruises. There was only one reasonable conclusion. Raven's not a nice person. She's not a _good_ person, but surely she'd let Yang helping a woman in need slide. She has to. 

“She's got nowhere to go and he'll find her if she tries the shelter; too public. And we both know how useless the cops around here are. It's just for a few days. She’ll figure something out by then.”

Raven doesn't respond right away, turns her gaze towards the horizon where the sun's still just coming up, trying to rip through the fog. It's a weirdly beautiful sight, even in the cold morning air, though it's impossible to tell if Raven's appreciating the view or just looking at something other than Yang. 

“I don't care.” She finally says, tapping the end of her cigarette. Yang feels a ten ton weight float off her chest. She'd told Blake not to worry, but she didn't actually know if Raven would let her stay or not. 

No one crossed Raven. 

“But, I need you at the swap in two days. This deal's too big for any mishaps.”

“That's fine. Looking forward to it.” Yang's the best muscle in the gang, except for maybe Vernal. She's not the most powerful; there's plenty of bicep bound idiots who could outclass her there, but they didn't have her technique, didn't have her clever mind. Pure strength didn't mean much when you were down and out after a swift kick to the balls.

“Good.” Raven takes one last drag and puts her cigarette out on the ground. “Don't be distracted, Yang. The survival of the gang always comes first.”

“I know.” Yang doesn't say it with the confidence it needs. Raven walks away, gets on her Harley; a vicious black and chrome monster with the gang's logo spray painted on. Yang doesn't know where she's going; sometimes Raven just leaves, but she always comes back. 

For the gang, at least. 

She finishes her cigarette and coughs violently on the last inhale. It's poison, obviously, but she hates how much she likes how it burns her lungs.

Her keys are right where Raven said they’d be and she slides them into the ignition. 

“Wait, where’s my-“ Yang pats herself down, hoping that the missing rose charm will reveal itself. It doesn’t. “Shit. Ruby’s gonna be pissed I lost that…”

She gets on Bumblebee, savours the way the Triumph roars to life and then pops her helmet on, makes sure her yellow bandana is tied tightly around her left arm and speeds off, leaving a kicked up mound of dirt behind her. 

~~~~~~

She comes back with a bag full of McDonald's. Who the hell knew when the last time Blake had eaten was; the girl needs some food, and there's nothing like a pile of horrifically unhealthy greasy food to start the day (Yang convinces herself that 11:00 am is still breakfast time). She gets into the trailer as quietly as possible and feels relieved when she sees that Blake's already up. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, sheets messy, still in her clothes from last night with faint traces of her mascara staining her cheeks. Yang makes a note to scrounge up something new for her. 

“Hey,” Yang begins, wags the bag of food around. “Breakfast?”

“Jesus,” Blake jumps, takes a breath. “I… was worried when you weren't here. Should have known you'd be doing something stupid.”

“Hey,” Yang smiles, though she feels guilty she'd left Blake alone, considering the state she'd been in. “what's wrong with fast food breakfast? The grease helps you get through the day.”

Blake snickers and Yang's heart soars, as it does now whenever Blake smiles, whenever Blake's happy. This random girl shouldn't have such an effect on her. She doesn't believe in destiny but Blake's giving her a real weird feeling about it. Maybe kismet was hiding by a dumpster this whole time. 

“Catch!” She tosses Blake a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, grins widely when she nearly drops it. 

“A little warning would be nice!” She barely catches it, lets out the slightest laugh when she does. 

“I _said_ catch.”

Blake smiles as she unwraps the unhealthy treat. It's clearly not the girl’s favorite, but Yang's satisfied to see her eating. Her skin's a proper color now; her tan's visible again and it's all warmer colors, not like the pale white and blue from the night before. 

It gets awkward quickly once they're both finished and there's suddenly nothing to talk about. Yang's bouncing her leg, tapping her knee, trying to find interesting things in the trailer to look at that aren't Blake, secretly hoping she’ll find her rose charm. At least there's plenty of distracting old nick nacks around. She wonders who owned the trailer back in the day, what they were doing, if they were even still alive. 

“Um.” Blake breaks the silence uncharacteristically. “I'll pay you back later. I don't have any money right now.”

“Huh? Don't worry about it, it wasn't even ten bucks.” Yang shrugs. She's got plenty of cash right now. Crime pays. 

Blake moves around uncomfortably, like she doesn't even want to be in her own skin right now. “... I find it hard to believe you don't want anything in return after all you've done for me.”

“Nothing wrong with giving a little unconditional help.” Yang shrugs. Blake looks at her and she's suspicious; that much is obvious. She swallows, suddenly nervous under Blake's intense golden gaze. Her every atom is being examined.

“You'll have to forgive me for not totally believing that.” Blake draws her arms close to her over her knees with a sad laugh. Yang feels like any progress she'd made getting close to her just vanished. This girl’s used to giving and giving and never getting back. “Look, people always want something.” 

“Yeah. I wanted to help you.” Yang’s upset by how indignant and aggressive the words come out. Blake shrinks down more and trains her eyes on the floor, on the cheap shag carpet from the 80’s that's lying there. 

“Yeah? You're in a gang. I saw what they were doing last night. I saw the way you were looking at me. I figure you wanted money, or…” She bites her lip, shakes fearfully at the thought. Yang watches her shoulders pull tightly against her neck, and her legs are closed together like a vice. 

“ _What?_ ” Yang scoffs. Apparently a good night of sleep and some food had brought out her rowdy side. The insinuation was borderline hurtful. “Jesus, Blake I would _never_ -”

“I don't _know_ you. Look, Yang,” Blake gnaws on her lip again, looks like the very act of trying to find something to say is hurting her. “I'm thankful you helped me. Honestly. I- I should go though. I'll find somewhere to hide in the city.”

“What are you doing?” Blake gets up despite Yang's protest, bolts for the door. “You said you had nowhere to go! Are you planning on _walking_ back?”

“I know!” Blake shouts it back, breathing heavy, looking desperate. “But I can't-”

Blake's got a grip on the handle when Yang stands up, approaches her carefully. She can let her temper get the best of her sometimes; a lot of times. She needs to be calm now. 

“Blake, please.” Yang says it quietly, steadily. “I don't want you out on the streets alone, ok? You don't have any money, or clothes, or a weapon.”

Blake hesitates; she's got the handle turned, but the door remains closed. She knows Yang's telling the truth. 

“I'll leave you alone for a while. No one will bother you if you just hang out here. I'll come back in an hour or two. I promise.”

Blake bites her lip, glances at the door, glances at Yang. She breathes deep. 

“Just think it over. If you wanna leave after that I won't stop you.”

Blake's running complex calculations in her head, long division with no clear answer. Her brow is heavy with worry, concern, confusion. 

“Fine. I'll think about it.” Yang feels relieved again the second time for the day. 

“Ok.” Yang tries to smile, forces the corners of her mouth up. “I'll leave and lock the door. Take your time.”

Blame shrugs indifferently even though she looks like she could use a hug. Yang’s not about to try though. She clearly needs space.   
She leaves the trailer, triple checks that the door is locked. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Yang rolls her eyes when she hears Vernal's voice, Raven's second in command, looks over to see the girl with cropped hair giving her a smug smile as she leans against her own trailer, tapping her bottom lip.

“Vernal. What an unpleasant surprise.” Yang says it as flatly as she can manage. She's good at getting under one's skin. She must have heard their fight; the trailer walls aren't exactly soundproof. 

"Oh, really? You didn't use to think so." Vernal grins, relishes in the flush of embarrassment that comes over Yang's face. She's not one throw herself at every girl she sees, despite the things people say behind her back, and Vernal had just been one big mistake. 

"Whatever." Yang huffs. 

“You brought a homeless girl to a camp full of _scary_ bikers. What were you expecting?”

“Look, I don't want to do this. Chew me out later if you want.” Yang muscles past her. Wasting time on this is pointless. 

Vernal lights a cigarette as she watches Yang go. She calls after her. “You've gotten soft Yang!” 

She's fails to rinse off the mud of Vernal's words. Going soft. What was wrong with being a little soft? When she started calling Ruby again a few months ago Raven had been furious. When she helps a girl out of the rain she's gotten called out on it, but she's _always_ there when needed. She's done things she didn't think she was capable of in the name of the gang, of impressing Raven, of trying to win back some of the parental love she was desperate for. 

There's no point in worrying about it. She goes for a walk to clear her head and is relieved when Vernal is nowhere to be found. But her mind’s trained on Blake now anyway, and how nervous she is to face her. 

Honestly, she feels like an idiot. Blake's actions are totally justified, especially considering her circumstances. She curls up her fists, imagines how satisfying it would be to find the man who had laid his hands on her, who had made such a beautiful woman so distrustful and scared. 

She stops in front of the trailer door, hesitates before knocking. She remembers she promised; if Blake wants to leave, she'll let her, no matter how stupid a choice she thinks it would be. 

She hears Blake's voice on the other side, hears the anxiety it holds: “Yang?”

“Yeah. Can I come in?” 

The door opens from the other side and Blake's the first thing she sees. She's been crying, clearly. The evidence is on her face, in the redness of her eyes, even if she's trying to hide it. 

“Hey,” Yang says calmly, approaching her carefully. She sits down on the bed next to Blake, watches her curl her legs up to her chest. 

“I’m sorry.” Blake replies after a shaky breath. “I shouldn't have accused you; you've only been kind to me.”

“I think it was pretty justified.” Yang shrugs, though Blake's apology does lighten her spirits.   
“This isn't really a… normal situation.” 

“No. It's not.” Blake laughs, runs a weary hand across her face. “But at least…”

Blake looks at her and Yang's not sure what it means; there's layers in her gaze, tiered levels waiting to be unpacked. She opens her now dry mouth, tries to respond when-

“Branwen!”

“Christ!” Yang startles, hops off the bed, alarmed by the sudden shout of her mother's surname. Blake looks distressed, like maybe she recognizes that voice, the sound of engines. Yang shoots her a sympathetic look, grabs her brass knuckles out of a drawer and puts her hand on the doorknob. 

“Hey, I'll be right back. Swear.”

Blake nods bleakly. 

Yang gets out of the trailer, curiosity peaked. A small convy rolls in, and none of them are part of the gang. There's three white trucks covered in mud and three guys on motorcycles; they look shoddy to Yang, but not everyone takes motherly care of their ride like she does. They all stop and the trucks kills their engines.

The gang's already on alert, several of them with their hands in their pockets, resting on hidden knives and small pistols. Vernal's sitting on a crate near the front, filing down her nails. She's got her focus firmly trained on the newcomers. 

“Where's Branwen?” He's a tough looking guy that's got a mask on that's like a wolf, red and white and black, with the Fang's jacket underneath. A metal baseball bat is slung over his shoulders, and a gun is strapped to his thigh. Five get out of each truck and the other two gets off their motorcycles, flanking the clear boss on either side, all wearing Fang colors. They look like they're itching for a fight; Yang recognizes the signs. 

“Who's asking?” Vernal asks, still filing her nails, looking bored, clearly unimpressed by the White Fang's bravado. Some of the gang's gone, attending to business in Vale; it'd be an even fight.

Or it would be, if Yang and Raven hadn't been present. She's already noted that her mother's motorcycle is back, parked in its usual spot, though Raven's nowhere to be seen. 

“The White Fang.” He responds with cocky, unearned confidence like the name alone carries all the weight it needs. “You the boss around here?”

“I am.” Yang wonders if Raven had been waiting the entire time to make a dramatic entrance; she wouldn't put it past her. She strides out, stares the group down, skull bandanna covering the lower half of her face. 

“No one told me about any visitors.” She replies, red eyes scanning for weaknesses. She's got a well worn oak bat with chains wrapped around it in her hand, hiding the numerous blood stains underneath. Her other hand hovers menacingly over the hunting knife strapped to her leg. 

“And no one told us you kidnapped one of our girls.” The man cracks his neck violently. It's hard to tell past the mask, but he's looking for something, for _someone._ “That's not good form Branwen.”

“Please, call me Raven.” The gang leader replies, tone seething, daring. “We've kidnapped no one. You can leave now.”

“Sure you didn't.” The guy with the baseball bat circles around, flashing his muscles in a show of force. “Then why did we spot her getting spirited away on a motorcycle last night? A motorcycle belonging to _your_ little group. Some bitch with blond hair took her.”

Yang catches Raven's eyes in a split second and translates what she means immediately. She didn't know why these goons thought Blake was theirs; she was just a girl that needed help. They clearly had a case of mistaken identity, but there's no one else they could have been referring to. 

Raven sighs, rubs at the crow’s feet at her temples. The man crosses his arms, taps his foot impatiently. Yang's heart is hammering. 

“Wait, that's her! Over there boss!” A goon sticks out a finger at Yang, picking her out of the crowd. 

_That's what I get for having gorgeous hair_. Yang mirrors her mother's sigh and cracks her knuckles. She doesn't know how Raven will react, but she's already decided that Blake wasn't going anywhere without a fight, consequences be damned. For all she knew this guy is the one she'd run from, that she'd almost frozen out in the cold because of. 

“Your buddy doesn't look like he could pick out his own face from a lineup, no offense.” Raven growls. The situation is deteriorating rapidly. Yang slides her hands into her jacket pockets, gets her brass knuckles on as smoothly as she can. Everyone's shifting around, moving, muscles tense and eyes wide. Adrenaline runs high. 

Raven's hand’s ready, fingers positioned to snap and call on the assault. 

The Fang leader growls. “Trust me honey, you don't want to mess with us.” 

Honey? Oh, that was a mistake. 

Raven snaps and the gang disperses. Vernal runs in rapidly, a knife in each hand, and disarms the member closest to her, knocking the gun out of his hands and smacking the handle of one of her blades harshly against his temple, knocking him down unconscious to the ground. 

Yang sprints in, dodges a swing from a Fang member before punching him square in the stomach, a solid left jab followed by a right hook. The air's knocked out of his lungs and he doesn't have time to recover before she smashes her other fist against his face, his jaw cracking under the pressure. Yang grins, revels in the thrill of the fight. She always likes a good bruising, loves the way her blood rushes in her ears. This is why she ran away from home. Or that's the excuse she tells herself at least. 

She spots Raven fighting the other gang leader, dodging the swings of his baseball bat like an expert. It's a distraction, she reminds herself. Focus on the fight. This is what you _wanted_. She swears she sees the silhouette of her father there, disappointed, shaking his head. 

She punches the next goon extra hard; if the girl doesn't have a concussion in the morning Yang’ll be shocked. Raven's gang has the clear advantage, despite the even numbers. A White Fang member runs away as Vernal and some other gang members break his friend's leg with an awful snap. Yang manages to catch another fleeing before they can escape, kicks them in the back of the knee and grounds them. 

Raven's fight is escalating. She's running circles around the guy, who's just wasting energy, trying to hit a target that won't stay still. His muscles can't do any good if his blows never connect. She finally swings at his legs with her bat, the chains connecting with flesh and bone, a terrible crack sounding out as she breaks his knees with the circular blow. 

“Gah!” He cries out and falls over, unable to keep standing. Any remaining fighting amongst the two gangs stops and everyone's trained in on Raven. He tries to crawl away, tries to get his legs to work. 

“Remember,” Raven begins, dragging the tip of the bat against the ground, “ I gave you a chance to leave.” 

She raises her bat, and Yang thinks of crying out, thinks of trying to stop her, but her throat's suddenly dry and she's immobilized. Raven slams it against his head, and Yang's not sure if he's dead or alive. 

There's a long pause of utter silence.

“We're getting out of here!” One of the Fang members shouts. His comrades readily comply. Raven's gang just watches as they all grab their fallen, unconscious comrades, watches as they pile back into their trucks, watches as they consider getting their boss, only to smarten up and run even faster when they see Raven still hovering over him, bat in hand. 

Yang tries to breathe as steadily as she can. She's got blood on her knuckles; evidence of the raw beatdown she'd just engaged in. Some of Raven's men and women are lying on the ground unconscious or injured. She walks over to someone still standing, gestures with her thumb at the unconscious body she'd left. 

“Tie him up."

Yang's blood cools real fast once she realizes Raven's stalking towards her, Vernal hot on her trail. She hears a door click, turns to see Blake rushing out of the trailer towards Yang. She can't believe it when the ebony haired girl pulls her into a tight hug. 

“Thank God, when they showed up I thought,” she stammers, and Yang can't think of a reply, “I thought-”

“She needs to _go_.” It's Raven, staring them both down, mask pulled off to reveal a scowl, fury. There's no room for debate, not with that tone. Blake pulls away quickly but stays close to Yang, like she's the only thing keeping her safe from this red eyed demon in front of her. Yang bites her lip, gnaws, tries to think of an excuse, someway Blake can stay, but it's Blake who speaks first. 

“Wait! What if I can help you?” Blake pipes in, shoulders back, trying to be bold, a protective hand in front of Yang. She's scared though; Yang can tell, and so can Raven, but the gesture stirs something in her heart regardless. 

“How could you possibly help me?” Raven scoffs, staring Blake down with her red eyes and her face splattered with blood. Yang's impressed at Blake's courage to stand up to her. People in the camp were terrified of her, and rightly so; only a few people had any sway with her, any ground to back up onto before the cliff. “Aside from bringing the enemy right to our doorstep.” 

“The White Fang.” Blake begins, taking deep breaths to help steady her stance. “I was a member- and I know Adam personally.”

Raven crooks a single brow, suddenly curious. Yang's more than curious. She's shocked. How was this random girl she'd found a member of the most notorious gang in Vale, claiming to know one of their top dogs at that? 

“Taurus?” Yang confirms for her. 

Blake winces at the name and Yang doesn't miss it. “Yeah. Look, I know about stashes; weapons, money, drugs, dealer locations...”

Yang blinks as Blake lists off a laundry list of information she has on the White Fang. If it's all true, Raven would potentially be able to devastate the rival gang, hinder their operations in Vale; maybe even destroy their presence completely. Either way, it would mean major dollar signs for the group. 

“They _were_ looking for her.” Vernal muses, eyeing Blake up and down, trying to put a number value on her. “But that doesn't mean she actually knows anything. She could just be a junkie late on her payment.”

“You-” Yang begins, face hot with anger, fists clenched, wanting to smash in Vernal's face, tell her that she doesn't know the first thing about Blake, not that Yang does either. She takes a combative step forward before feeling Blake lay a restraining hand on her shoulder. 

“I can prove it. Just- please you have to let me stay.” Blake says as boldly as she can. “I can't let them find me.”

Raven pauses, all eyes focused on her. She only stops looking at Blake to catch a glance at Yang. 

“Fine.” Yang sees Blake's shoulders immediately drop as the biker speaks. “Prove it.”

Blake bites her lip, goes pale. Yang's worried she might puke, looking like that. Mystery girl grabs the hem of her shirt, pulls up slightly to reveal a tattoo of the White Fang's icon etched on her abdomen, a snarling wolf head, no fewer than three tattooed scars running across it; that means Blake's a big deal. Yang holds her tongue, fights back the salvo of questions she suddenly has. She pulls her shirt down aggressively when she feels she's shown the gang long enough. 

“Even if your story checks out,” Raven begins, circling around her daughter and her companion, red eyes trained like a hyena on them. “I want _results_. You'll go with Yang tomorrow and hit one of those caches. Bring everything back and you can stay as long as you like.”

Raven smirks wickedly at Blake as she finishes. By stay as long as she likes, the leader clearly means 'you stay or become a prisoner.’ Yang swears she can hear Blake's furious heartbeat, faster than a 500cc engine. 

“Deal.”

“Alright. Stop staring boys and girls, back to work!” Raven commands, and the gang disperses, going back to their various tasks. A group of thirteen are loading unmarked crates onto an old flatbed truck that had been _acquired_ earlier in the day. They've already swiped out the plates; if you're gonna do a job you better do it right. 

“You've got a big day tomorrow.” Raven turns with a smirk and leaves, Vernal following closely behind her, leaving Yang and Blake standing in the middle of the camp alone.

“You don't trust her, right?” Vernal asks, keeping pace as Raven strides off to her trailer. 

“Of course not. You'll follow them; see if her info holds any water.” Raven smirks, thinks about the possibilities of her words being the truth, of having an insider and a bargaining chip. 

Vernal coughs. “Do you trust _Yang_ , I mean?” 

Raven stops, stares Vernal down and watches as the other woman shivers under her gaze. She looks off, catches Yang leading Blake back inside. 

“She's gone soft, Raven. When she first showed up she was great but-"

"I know, Vernal." She opens the door to her trailer deliberately. "At some point, she'll learn that she needs to toughen up or get spat out. If she wants to play prince charming for a bit, let her."

Vernal shrugs. That topics clearly a lost cause. Raven enters her trailer and thumbs at the stolen rose charm in her pocket, contemplates throwing it in the garbage. 

~~~~~~

“Jesus Blake,” Yang begins with a low whistle. “didn't know you were such a badass.” 

She realizes she said something stupid when Blake doesn't respond, when she just sits on the edge of the bed and tries to breathe, shaking. 

“Oh, I uh-” Yang backpedals, tries to take it back somehow. 

“It's fine.” Blake says sharply, curtly, on the intake of a breath. “You would have found out eventually.”

She holds herself tightly on the edge of the bed, breathing in almost steady gulps. Gradually it steadies and her form stops shaking. 

"Fuck." Is the only thing she says. 

Yang bites her lip, rolls it between her teeth. She decides to ask the question foremost on her mind. "That guy you ran from… was he-"

"Yeah. He's in the Fang." Blake finishes for her. Her tone indicates that she doesn't want to talk about that subject anymore than someone wants to jump into a pile of nettles. 

"Fuck." Yang mirrors, pushing her bangs out of her face. The situation's complicated, has more layers than Yang could have anticipated. What was supposed to be an act of kindness towards a struggling young woman had turned into the accidental acquisition of a rival gang member. 

A shockingly beautiful one at that. 

“Do you uh. Want some alone time?” She asks, inching towards the door. 

“That… would be nice, actually. I need to think about how the hell we’re going to get out of this mess.” Blake bites her lower lip. 

“You know…” Yang begins, matching Blake’s worrying. “I could try to sneak you out. Drop you off in the next city-“

“I’m pretty sure your mom would kill you.” Blake replies, cat ears as flat as her tone, half joking, half serious. Yang imagines that, imagines the kind of punishment Raven would whip up for her if she smuggled Blake out. 

“Besides, you wouldn’t do something that stupid for a stranger, would you?” Blake laughs, sadness betraying in her eyes. Yang opens her mouth to speak. 

_I think I probably would for you._ Yang thinks it, doesn’t mention it. She doesn’t even understand it herself, why she wants to stick her neck out for Blake. Love at first sight isn’t real. Her mouth closes and the only thing that came out of it was silence. 

Blake smiles weakly. It says, yeah, I thought so. 

Yang turns to leave, presses down on the handle of the door when Blake pipes up again. 

“Do you have any pen and paper by the way? I want to make a map.”

Yang crooks a curious brow. 

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.” Blake states firmly. “That way we can go over a plan when you get back…”

“Oh. Right, that sounds good.” Yang nods quickly, wishing that Blake had asked her something else. “I think everything you’d need is somewhere in one of those drawers.”

“Got it.” Blake gets up and starts rummaging. “And Yang?”

Yang’s got the door halfway open, looks at Blake expectantly. “What’s up?”

“Thank you. For… standing by me.” Blake flushes and a lock of black hair falls across her face before she turns away. Yang’s legally dead for a few seconds. 

“Yeah. Blake, of course.” She leaves the trailer, knowing her face is an equally embarrassing red. A hand rests on her chest, feeling her heart pounding inside her ribs. She wasn’t usually such a sucker for a pretty face, not at all. She hadn’t even _been_ with anyone since her extremely regrettable one night stand with Vernal. 

She knows it’s wrong too, to be feeling this way given Blake’s situation, but it’s just because the faunus is… different somehow. Exceptional somehow. That’s what Yang tells herself


	3. Chapter 3

“Let’s go over the plan one more time.” Blake says to Yang, sitting across from her outside at a bench while Raven watches, not missing a single word. 

“Right.” Yang nods. She’s got the whole thing memorized. “We’ll leave at one, take some back roads through the woods. Then we’ll go on foot to this old barn. It was abandoned sometime in the 80’s; the White Fang moved in a few years ago.”

Blake nods as Yang points on the old map they’d dug up. “If you’re right, it won’t be too well guarded. Just a few watchdogs- er, guards.”

Yang smiles sheepishly as Blake raises her eyebrows, unamused by Yang’s accidental freudian faunus slip. 

“Right. We can take them together as long as we’re stealthy.” Blake decides to ignore it. “Unless things have changed it’s still a sort of way station. There should be a decent amount of cocaine stored there.”

Yang wrinkles her nose at the mention of the drug. She’d seen too many people destroyed by it to ever bother herself. 

“Bring some back to prove it. Destroy the rest. I don’t care how.” Raven hums. Yang let’s a small grin crawl across her face; maybe they can just set it all on fire. That would be real fun. 

“You don’t want to sell it?” Blake asks, curious as to the biker’s motives. 

“I’m not interested in pushing coke.” Raven sighs, looking towards the city. “Though if they ever get around to legalizing pot I might have to change my mind. I like our current ‘tax exempt’ status.”

Blake simply nods, doesn’t press the subject. It’s more important to attend to current business than to worry over Raven’s curious motivations. 

“We should be back well before nightfall.” Blake says, folding her map up. She looks at Yang who responds with a curious look; the faunus has gone silent all of a sudden. 

“What is it?” Yang asks leaning a bit closer to Blake. She’s not too surprised when the faunus shys away; they’re not exactly friends yet. Or are they? Suddenly Yang’s not sure where she should stand with the girl she rescued. The girl shifts back and forth awkwardly in her seat, doesn’t look at Yang. She didn’t make a mistake did she?

“I- well I probably need a weapon.” Blake states simply, looking Raven right in her eyes. It seems like she's getting bolder, more daring, at least when it comes to standing up to Raven. 

“Is that so?” The leader hums, looks Blake over from top to bottom, analysing and curating. It’s clear when she’s reached a conclusion. 

“Here.” Raven takes her hunting knife’s holster off her leg, places it roughly in Blake’s hand. Yang’s stunned; Raven doesn’t just _give_ people things. Blake’s got a similar expression to Yang’s: shock. 

“If you don’t bring it back,” Raven begins, lips curled into a cruel smile. “I think you know that you’ll have much less to worry about than the White Fang.”

Ah. There’s the threat. Blake stands her ground and doesn’t break eye contact with Raven, though Yang sees the flicker of fear in her eyes. As far as she’s concerned, Blake’s bravery is the stuff of legends. 

“There won’t even be a scratch.” Blake challenges, strapping the knife to her thigh. It’s a vicious, serrated blade, tucked inside a fine leather case gone black from use. The appearance alone is enough to cause some people to go running. Mostly Yang's just thinking of how damn attractive Blake looks right now, wearing some fresh clothes they'd dug up around camp, knife tied to her leg, eyes determined, full of fire. 

She shakes her head rapidly to stop herself from staring. 

Eventually Raven replies, seemingly oblivious to Yang's googly eyes. "Good. I'll be waiting."

She stalks off, enters her trailer unceremoniously and Blake and Yang are left alone. 

"Pardon me for saying," Blake begins, letting out bated breath, "but your mom's a bitch." 

Yang snorts far louder than she intends, drawing some attention from a free bikers wandering around. 

"I mean. Yeah." Yang stops herself from bursting out laughing. It's so _true,_ so on point that it truly is funny. If anyone knew the extent of Raven's 'bitchiness' it would be Yang and her family. But she's made too many mistakes to go crawling back to them now. 

"If you don't mind me asking-" Yang can tell it's a question she doesn't want to hear just from Blake's tone alone. "What's the deal with you two? You don't seem to like each other much."

Yang winces. She's not used to explaining her situation to anyone, even gorgeous faunus from the city. 

"I uh… would rather not talk about it." Yang turns her eyes downward, can see Blake's ears drooping out of her periphery. 

"Yang, sorry I didn't mean to-"

"It's ok. I get why you're curious but…" Yang smiles weakly, tries to snuff out her negative emotions. "I mean we both have secrets, don't we?"

Blake's hand instinctively drops down to her abdomen, lingering above where her White Fang tattoo is hidden by her grey top. 

"Yeah." Blake eventually replies. There's nothing to say after that. 

~~~~~

“Jesus this forest is thick. I should have brought a machete….” Yang complains before being silenced by a librarian like shush from Blake. 

“Oh. Right. Stealth. Whoops.” Her voice drops to an embarrassed whisper. They've been walking for a good half hour now, trekking into the forest as soon as Yang was comfortable Bumblebee was properly hidden. She’ll die if anything ever happens to her baby. 

“It’s clearly not your strong suit.” Blake chuckles quietly. If Yang hadn’t been listening carefully she would have missed it. She keeps following behind Blake, stepping where she had, trying to make as little noise as possible. Yang’s not sure if it’s racist or not to think so, but Blake’s literally moving as silently as a cat. It’s crazy impressive, really. 

_Beautiful, smart, talented… is there anything this girl can’t do?_

Blake holds up a hand to signal for Yang to stop, which she does, promptly. Her companions ears are twitching, listening to something that Yang’s human ears were incapable of hearing. 

“I hear two of them, talking. There probably won’t be more than five altogether, not in a remote place like this.” Blake whispers, turning carefully to Yang. “Let’s split up. I’ll take the north side; you take the south side.”

“Got it.” Yang nods. Blake mimics the action before taking off into the woods, Raven’s hunting knife still in its sheath at her side.

Yang takes a deep breath and heads off herself. There’s rough pathways stamped out, places where White Fang members have clearly been before. She reaches the end, makes sure her form is hidden behind a bush. 

The old barn is in complete disrepair; it’s a miracle it’s still standing. Holes are pocked through the sides and the brush around it is overgrown and untended, the wood rotted and worn. It’s dilapidated appearance and remoteness make it a great hideaway. 

Yang wants to crack her knuckles so badly, but she manages to taper the urge. The two that Blake had heard chatting are on her side of the barn, one leaning against the door and another kicking random rocks out of boredom. 

“Man, who’d we piss of to get guard duty?” The bored one complains angrily. 

“I don’t know.” The other sighs, clearly equally as bored. “Who did you piss off.”

Yang rolls her eyes as they continue to bicker and complain. They’re going to be unconscious very soon anyways. She grabs a rock nearby, a rough one, the perfect size, and throws it across the way from her into the woods, where it knocks down a fragile tree branch. The guards immediately pick up on the weird sound. 

“What was that?” Mr. Bored out of his Gourd begins, drawing a switchblade out from his pocket. 

“Probably just a deer dude. Chill out.” 

“Easy for you to say asshole. I’ll go check it out.” He huffs, storms off into the woods after the sound. Yang grins and makes her approach, the guard still at the barn watching his friend stalk into the woods. He won’t see her coming. 

She exits the brush and moves quickly, swings her arm across his neck and clamps her other over his face, muffling his startled cries for help. This just isn’t his day. She flexes her bicep roughly, makes sure she’s cutting off is air supply. Eventually he stops struggling and she drops him, unconscious onto the ground. When his friend comes back from the woods, complains that ‘it was just some dumb tree branch’, Yang makes short work of him with a fist to the face. 

Blake shows up a minute later looking no worse for wear. “There was a guy up front.” She says in a whisper. “He’s taking a nap now.”

Yang snorts silently and follows Blake as she gets to the barn door. She’s got her ear pressed against the wood, listening carefully. “Just one in there I think.”

“Jesus, I wish I had ears like that.” Yang regrets it the second she says it. 

“You wouldn’t,” Blake begins, a hand frozen on the lock on the door. “if you knew what else came with it.”

Yang swallows and it’s like trying to choke down bleach. Blake used to be in the White Fang, and they’d started as an activist organization, _started_ as a good thing, as something meaningful and hopeful. But the leadership changed. Priorities changed, and suddenly protesting wasn’t enough. Fundraising wasn’t enough. But violence was. Drugs were, and through it all they tried to justify it under the veil of Faunus rights. 

Yang wonders if that’s why Blake had joined them originally. She certainly hopes so. It would be more altruistic than Yang’s reasons for running away from home and joining a nasty gang. 

“Code’s still the same, thankfully.” Yang’s pulled out of her thoughts by Blake’s voice, who’s finished unlocking the barn door. She tosses the padlock to the ground. “Idiots.”

With her hand on the handle, she turns to Yang. “I’ll get the door; you rush in and get them, ok?”

Yang rolls her neck around and nods. “Oh, I’ve got it.”

Blake rolls her eyes but nods in assent. She starts counting off silently with her fingers. 

_Three…_

_Two…_

_One…_

_Go!_

She swings the door pen and Yang peels in, sees a guy wearing a mask moving crates of ‘tomato sauce’ around, and there’s no time to react before she slams her fist into his side, hooks her foot around his ankle, trips him, and knocks him out with a furious strike to the temple. 

“Damn,” Blake whistles low as she walks inside, rolling her shoulders, “you didn’t tell me you were such a badass Yang.”

Yang cackles as Blake mirrors her words from earlier, but mostly she’s glad Blake’s not put off by the violence, though that’s both good and bad. She swears there’s something _flirty_ in the way Blake looks at her, the way her hips move in front of her as she walks to the crates, the way her muscles bend and move under her shirt as she rips a box open. 

She has to be doing this on purpose, right?

“We don’t make too bad of a team, huh?” Yang throws her arms lazily behind her head as she walks next to Blake, who’s prying the lid off a large can of ‘tomatoes’ with Raven’s hunting knife. The tin pops off easily with a clack and Blake reaches in to pull out a white package. 

“No. We’re not half bad at all.” She smirks, tosses the package to Yang. 

“Wait Jesus, do these _all_ have this much coke in them?”

“Sienna decided cocaine was the most ‘cost effective fundraising method’.” Blake sighs. Yang knows there’s a story there, some extended tale full of hope and betrayal. “It’s the primary drug the Fang is smuggling right now, though Sienna and-“

Blake stops, and there’s a weird hitch in her breath. “... never mind.”

"Uh," Yang stutters, uncharacteristically has nothing to say. She wants to pry, more than anything really, but Blake needs to tell her when she's ready. Hopefully one day she will be. "How should we get rid of this? Light the place up?"

"Probably the fastest way, but it might extend to the forest…" Blake hums thoughtfully, a wise finger under her chin. "There's a river not far from here; it feeds into the main bay of Vale. Let's dump it there."

"Ooh, now that sounds fun." Yang smiles, looking around the barn for an old trailer or something than can use. She's rewarded with an old, rusty metal cart. It smells like mold and copper. "Bet I can make a bigger splash than you."

"Oh, really? Now the real question is…" Blake stands up, dusts off her knees and walks so close to Yang that the blond's breath hitches, sticks in her throat. It's so sexy it's a crime. "What are you willing to lose?"

Yang can feel the warmth coming off Blake's body, can feel the way her ears twitch and the bold challenge that's in her catlike eyes. 

"Cocky, aren't you?" Yang grins, feels her face going hot, thinks that she'd love nothing more than to shove Blake against the wall of the barn, feel how she moves underneath her, how she-

Blake's got the same look on her face, before it fades quickly, like she realized she was getting too close to the fire. Getting burnt isn't on her agenda. 

"Um. You owe me dinner if you lose." Blake says simply, backing away. Yang can't hardly tame her disappointment. 

"Oh." Yang says dumbly, before composing herself again. "Nothing too expensive I hope; I already got you _McDonald's_ after all; I'm not made of money.

"I want seafood." Blake says without dropping a beat, starts helping Yang load up the cart. 

"No lobster and it's a deal-" Yang wants to keep joking and teasing, but she realizes she's missing some critical information. 

"Hey Blake," Yang begins nonchalantly, "what's your last name?"

"Huh?" Blake's confused at first. "Right, you wouldn't know." Yang watches her ears rise and fall, watches as she mulls over an answer. 

"Belladonna." She finally says. 

"Oh, like the flower!" Yang smiles the second Blake says it, relishes the way she blushes under Yang's stare. She thinks the flowers have nothing on Blake. 

"Well, what about you?" Blake continues, opening the barn doors so they can get out. "It was… Branwen?"

"Xiao Long." Her reply is immediate and slightly curt. "Sorry. My full name is Yang Xiao Long."

Blake just nods, doesn't ask the questions simmering beneath the surface; it's clear Yang doesn't want to dig deep into it. They start pulling the cart as best they can through the thick brush; it's a struggle but the two together are more than strong enough together to get the job done. 

"Isn't that Chinese?" Blake continues the conversation down the tame path, asks a benign question. The wheels on the old cart squeal occasionally, causing the faunus's ears to twitch out off pain. Yang wishes she had cat ear plugs or something. Do those even exist?

"Yep. On my dad's side." Yang replies. "Raven's not really the type of woman to take someone else's last name."

"You don't say." Blake chuckles sarcastically. 

They reach the river after a period of eerily comfortable silence, save for the squeaky wheel and the sound of birds surrounding them. The river's high this time of year; Yang thinks it must be snowmelt or something, but the water makes the soil and the leaves smell fresh, and the rushing water provides a soothing backdrop of white noise. Blake shoots her a challenging look before starting to fling the packages into the river, each of them landed with a great _ker-plop!_

"Wh- hey that's cheating!" Yang giggles. This shouldn't be as much fun as it is. The two throw the packages into the river, and much to her chagrin, they both agree that Blake made the biggest splash. Somehow. Yang doesn't admit that she _really_ just wants an excuse to take Blake out for dinner. 

"Well," Blake says with a happy huff, "that was stupid."

"No appreciation for the finer things in life, huh?" Yang locks the cart into place and they leave it as they start to head back to Bumblebee. The guards would probably be unconscious for a little while longer yet, so there wasn't any need to rush. Yang's about to start asking Blake more probing personal questions when then stops in place, ears high and alert. She places a silencing finger over her lips. 

It's tense, waiting for Blake to tell her what's going on. Everything's quiet and Yang can only hear her own breathing. 

"I guess it was nothing." Blake finally sighs, shoulders slumping a bit. "Could have sworn I heard something."

"Wanna take a look around?" Yang suggests. Blake just shakes her head. 

"No. Let's just hurry back. I'm hungry and I want to cash in on that dinner you owe me." She punctuated the last line with a playful wink. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t ya?” Yang says, boldly walking closely to Blake who rewards her with a smile. 

“Only for your wallet, Yang. We need to work on that throwing arm of yours.”

Christ, she _has_ to be doing this on purpose, Yang thinks. The number of terrible Freudian jokes she can make based on that statement alone makes a blush roll across her face. 

~~~~~

“Everything checked out, just like she said.” Vernal sighs, pouring herself and Raven a glass of whiskey in her trailer. “Though watching the two of them _flirt_ made me want to gag.”

“I don’t need to hear the details on that point.” Raven says with a disgusted shiver. The less she knows about her daughter’s flirting and proclivities, the better, though it would hopefully make things easier if Yang got the Fang girl to open up to her, get her attached. She just needed to keep Yang on a short leash. A shorter one, maybe. The rose charm she’d stolen is still sitting on a nightstand nearby. “But that’s good news. Really good news.”

She’s sitting on an old leather couch that’s in far better condition than the rest of the trailer, with a kitchen and bed far past their prime. Vernal takes a seat across from her on a decorative wooden chair, sitting on it backwards as she takes a healthy swing of her drink. 

“You think so? I thought we were keeping a low profile.” 

“That was the original plan.” Raven swirls her glass, “but this could be the opportunity to make Vale ours. Especially if this girl is important to Taurus.”

“You sure about that? We don’t have any proof on that end.”

“The way she said his name, the way she acted; that as all the proof I needed.” Raven smirks, allows the alcohol to burn her throat. “People don’t act like that for their bosses or acquaintances.”

“You’re the boss.” Vernal shrugs. “Well, here’s to making the city of Vale our bitch then.” She raises her glass in the air, swings it towards Raven who returns the gesture. 

“Regardless, previous deal goes on as scheduled. We’ll make our next move from there. I assume the payload’s ready to move as scheduled?” 

“The old wharf at 4pm; it’ll be there.”

Raven sighs happily, satisfied with the news. “Good, take the rest of the night off. I have some business to take care of.” 

Vernal gives a casual salute before downing the rest of her drink in one gulp and leaving. Raven leans back into her seat, enjoys the temporary silence. She pulls out her lighter from her pocket and thumbs over the initials carved in there; carved such a long time ago now, back when she’d been naive and stupid and thought that running away with a blond boy with a dream had been in her best interest. 

She should throw it away too, with that damn charm. Maybe find an industrial sized compactor to smash them into one useless piece of metal, but she never does, and she knows she never will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This chapter is not as a long but I wanted to post it anyways since I am doing some job training this coming week and will be very busy (only girl on a solar installation team, wish me luck!). The response so far has been really positive and I wanted to say thank you! Next update Yang and Blake go on their not-a-date seafood excursion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I will hopefully be back to updating once a week now. Thank you all for your very kind comments and kudos! Feel free to leave one or drop some criticism! I always read every comment :)

Blake’s not too sure where Yang is. They’d gotten back from their little mission and shown Raven their results; a bag of cocaine and a phone picture of the rest rapidly flowing down the river. After that they’d gotten the typical coy response from Raven, who is quickly climbing to the top of Blake’s ‘least favorite people list’, though the number one spot will forever be reserved for Adam. 

At least they got permission to take the night off, though Blake doesn’t see why they need permission in the first place; they did what was asked of them. 

She’s trying to unwind in Yang’s trailer while she waits for the latter’s return. “I just have to get a few things from town,” she’d said, “I’ll be right back, then we can have dinner.”

Of course, that doesn’t leave Blake with much to do other than wait. Yang doesn’t have any books in the trailer, which isn’t surprising. Bikers probably had to travel light, and even paperbacks became heavy in large numbers. She thinks about her old apartment in Vale, about her old bookcase overflowing with her hard earned collection. She hopes Adam hasn’t thrown them all into a fire. 

There's a TV at least. It's old, and the dust on the screen fizzled and burnt away when it finally came to life; Yang hasn't used it since coming here evidently, but it's hooked up to the basic channels if nothing else. She's got the nightly news on with Lisa Lavender, an old favorite of hers; her reporting always seemed fair and well handled; a rare trait nowadays. 

"... And finally in our hourly recap, Weiss Schnee, heiress to Jaque Schnee's billion dollar energy empire, will be in Vale on the 17th to officiate the opening of Schnee Energy Company's new power plant. Rumors have been circulating about the reasoning behind her appearance, as many reporters have been speculating for a while that Ms. Schnee might lose her inheritance due to her firm stance on the rumors surrounding her father and the potential abuse of faunus employees ..."

Blake rolls her eyes at that. Every faunus _knows_ that the Schnee's are one of the worst when it came to exploitative labor. The Fang has been eyeing making a move on them for ages now, though Sienna seemed nervous to attack such a large company. Blake knows Adam doesn't have such reservations. 

After the report the news switches into some dull interview with a Vale city council member. Blake feels her eyes glazing over as they talk about the difficulties of transportation spending. She hears a knock on the door, hopefully a blessed reprieve from the boring news. 

"It's me!" Yang's voice comes from the other side, chipper as always. Blake can't fight the smile that comes to her as she imagines the woman on the other side, with her stupidly perfect hair and lilac eyes. 

"One sec," she replies and unlocks the door, revealing Yang grinning brightly behind it. She's got a backpack strapped on and gestures behind her with her thumb. 

"I believe I owe you dinner?"

Blake rolls her eyes as she leans against the old door frame, bites at her lower lip playfully. Something about Yang brings out her playful side, a side of her that had been too long stifled under Adam's thumb. "Dinner."

"After me then _madame._ " Yang puts on her _worst_ accent, or what Blake hopes is her worst accent. Regardless she hopes she never has to see Yang act. 

" _Madame?_ What are you, an eighteenth century French gentleman?"

"I mean I'd rock the outfit probably!" Yang chuckles, corals Blake over to her bike. She probably _would_ , Blake thinks. Yang's still in her clothes from before, complete with grass stains from the woods on her jeans and mud stuck to the bottom of her boots, but she still makes it look good somehow. There's a raw simplicity here; someone that's ready to present as is, no smoke and mirrors involved. 

Blake really wishes she had taken a shower. 

"C'mon, I got just the spot." Yang hands her backpack to Blake gestures for her to put it on. She does, with a curious raised eyebrow. The bag’s heavy, and oddly cold. 

"What's in here?" Blake tries to take a peak before Yang zips the backpack back up in a quick motion. 

"Don't spoil the surprise!"

"I'm not sure dinner should involve surprises."

"Then you've been going to all the wrong places Belladonna." 

She gets on after Yang and wraps her arms tightly around her torso. It's easy to feel how densely built Yang is, how defined her muscles are and how they clearly reflect the hard work put in behind them. It's less easy to ignore the accelerated beat of her heart. 

Yang revs the engine and takes off with a loud whoop, peeling right out of the dirt driveway onto the road. They're not going towards the city; that much is clear. She can see the towering skyscrapers slowly fading away in Yang's rearview mirrors, watches as the sun starts to fall out of the sky. 

They can't talk because of the roaring engine of the bike, but Blake doesn't care. She's oddly content with her arms around Yang, and her head resting on her back. Eventually Yang takes a harsh turn off the main road onto a small county line road. It's bumpy, but Yang's an excellent driver; Blake doesn't feel in danger at all. She finally realizes where they're headed: the beach. 

She has fond memories of the beach and even just the thought causes her nose to fill with the brisk wind, the salty spray of the sea. They’re happier memories; memories of her childhood, on the remote island of Menagerie, fishing with her father, burying him up to his neck in sand. Her mother was the best chef she’d ever met, though she’d inherited more of her father’s (lack) of skill in that area. There’s the vision of the fire pit on the beach, mahi-mani roasting over the top just enough to get crispy, while the three of them exchange anecdotes and life lessons. 

“Blake? Yoo-hoo, Blake?” 

She’s back to the present all of a sudden. The motorcycle’s stopped and Yang’s waving a hand in front of her face, expression torn between concern and amusement. 

“Sorry, zoned out for a bit.” She blushes as she gets off the bike with Yang, one hand taking the backpack off her shoulders. 

“No problem.” Yang sighs content, takes a glance at the beach. “It might not make too much sense, but sometimes just riding on a motorcycle… away from everything, just you and the road, and be really soothing.”

Blake nods as Yang shows her softer side yet again. If it hadn’t been for the fight against the White Fang Blake wouldn’t have been sure Yang was even capable of aggression. 

“I can see that.” Blake shrugs, following behind Yang as she walks well worn outcrops of rocks, beaten and battered by the wind and sea. She’s never been to Vale’s coast, but it’s clearly nice. There are only a few other people there given that it’s getting late in the day, and the beach is clean, split between a rocky shore and a small sandy bank. There’s the occasional tide pool here and there, coated green with algae; Yang points out a little crab in one. The ocean is beautiful against the sunset; the colors of the evening reflect against the dark purple sea, the waves gentle and steady, exhaling as the bounce off of the shoreline. 

“I came here a lot when I was a kid, when my family went on vacation.” Yang says it and Blake can tell it’s with the same wisps of nostalgia she’d felt earlier. “There's grills over here on the sand; I got charcoal ‘n stuff in the bag.”

“Where are you from again?” Blake asks, forces small talk. 

“Patch. It’s an island not far from here. Real cozy place. Real small too.”

Blake nods even though she’s never heard of Patch. It must be very small indeed. 

“Aw yes, they’re all still open!” Yang giggle and runs over to an old metal grill, fastened into a plot of cement with massive bolts; the kind you’d find in most national parks. She grabs the bag out of Blake’s hand and zips it open, pulling out a bag of charcoal, two tightly sealed bags of ice, and a can of igniting fluid. 

“And here Blake,” Yang adopted a pearlescent grin. “is the piece of resistance.”  
Blake watches, amused, as Yang opens up the bags of ice, revealing two salmon steaks, pink, skin on, and just begging to be eaten. Suddenly Blake is feeling very hungry. 

“You know, when I said ‘seafood’, I hadn’t really envisioned a beach cookout.” It’s a tease with no malice behind it. “And I think most people would have used a cooler.”

“Honestly, I figured someone like you would appreciate something a little more ‘out of the box.’” Yang shoots her a wink. Her purple eyes almost perfectly encapsulate the lavender in the drooping sky. 

“Oh, I’m not complaining.” Blake rolls her eyes, tries not to feel flustered under Yang’s gaze. “You _do_ know what you’re doing though, right?”

“Your dinner is in good hands, _Madame._ ” Yang adopts her fake accent from before, bows, and Blake laughs a lot harder than she should have. 

She watches as Yang pulls out the remaining items from the backpack; two paper plates (classy), two small salt and pepper grinders, and a beach towel that’s only _slightly_ damp from being in a backpack next to two bags of ice. There’s no silverware; apparently they’re eating with their fingers. 

“Here, I’m gonna season the fish, can you get the grill going?” Yang pulls a lighter out of her pocket and tosses it to Blake, who catches it skillfully. The light itself is very ‘Yang’. It’s a nice metal one, polished, with a chinese style dragon emblazoned on the front. 

“I thought the gang’s logo was that black bird?” Blake regrets it the second it leaves her mouth. It’s obvious that Yang’s relationship with Raven is far from amicable. 

“Yeah.” Yang answers simply, liberally salting the skin side of the steaks. “I just- even here I didn’t want to forget where I came from.”

She lets out a weak laugh as she grinds some pepper onto the fish. “It’s a long story.”

Blake mentally translates for her. _I don’t want to talk about it_ , is what Yang really means. She remembers what the blond said before, recalls their discussion of secrets, and even though she has no right to want to know more, no right to request more of Yang than she already has, there’s a sting in her chest at the refusal to go further. 

She gets the grill all prepared and lights it, the fire sparking to life with a dull roar, the delightful smell of charcoal mixing with the salt in the air. 

“Nice.” Yang says. “Let’s wait a second for it to get to the right temperature, and we’ll throw these babies on the grill!” 

Not many people were as excited about seafood as Blake was, but it looked like Yang could manage a close second. 

They sit next to each other on the beach towel, a good half a foot of distance between them. For a second the only sound is the ocean and the crackling of the grill, and honestly, Blake feels a modicum of peace inside her heart, just like she did on the back of Yang’s bike, just like she did when she watched her sleep, watched her chest rising and falling. 

“My family went to the beach a lot too.” Blake’s not sure why she begins the conversation; even Yang has a surprised look on her face. Maybe she thinks she owes Yang something; maybe she thinks her opening up will get Yang to do the same. Maybe she just wants to tell someone.

“N-not here though.” She breathes and continues, “On Menagerie; it’s actually really nice there this time of year. It stays warm even as fall and winter roll in, and it’s full of tropical trees and fish.”

“Man, that sounds amazing.” Yang leans her face into her hand and just looks at Blake. Most people say things like that all the time, but Yang really means it. That’s what Blake feels, at least. 

“It is.” an easy smile rests on her face. “Have you ever been scuba diving? There are some incredible reefs around there…”

“I’m gonna be honest with you Blakey.” Yang begins, and Blake just lets the nickname smile. It feels right. “I am straight up _terrified_ of the ocean.”

“Oh, so that’s a no then, from the big ‘ole scary biker?” 

“An absolute no! Have you _seen_ what lives in the ocean? Hell is here, and it’s called the Marianas Trench.” Yang makes a ‘scary’ gesture with her hands. 

“Yang, you know it’s physically _impossible_ to dive down that far, right?”

“They just tell you that to catch you off guard.” Yang snorts with a handwave. “I for one won’t gobbled up by a giant squid.”

“They don’t eat people!” Blake laughs heartily and shoves Yang gently against her shoulder. 

“As far as you know! I don’t see a marine biology degree anywhere _Ms. Belladonna_.” Yang mirrors her actions, the two of them giggling as they shove against each other. 

“I don’t need a degree to know _basic knowledge_ about the sea.” Another laugh, another shove. 

“Then explain to me why angler fish exist!” 

“Probably just to scare you.” Their back and forth continues until Blake shoves Yang a little _too_ hard, knocking the unprepared biker onto her back, with Blake rather (un)fortunately tumbling on top of. They both breathe sharply, and Yang has this _look_ on her face, the way longing appears in the flesh, and Blake decides immediately that it’s too close, even as her heart is threatening to break every rib in her chest. She quickly pulls off of Yang and retreats to her half foot of distance, trying to hide her darkened cheeks behind her arms. 

“I uh-“ Yang just stammers as she gets to her feet, grabs the seasoned fish which they’d both almost forgot about. “I’ll uh, get these all cooked! Yep!” 

It’s weird, obviously. Blake can almost feel the disappointment coming off of Yang as she tosses the steaks onto the grill with a sizzle, but was she expecting? 

Yang mumbles something under her breath that’s too quiet even for her faunus ears to catch. What had she wanted? The thought, the possibility, the _scenarios_ running through her head right now were far too close to what reality could have been. 

Blake knows she’s just lonely. Yang probably is too, but that’s no excuse to just _look_ at her the way she did, look at her eyes and her lips and the curve of her body; not in their situation. Not after she’d finally run from Adam. Blake lets a shaky sigh out into her arms and ignores the burning in her chest. The heat radiating off the grill doesn’t even come close.

~~~~~

_What the_ hell _was that Yang?!_ Luckily, Yang’s an expert at yelling at herself mentally. She’s trying so hard to focus, to not look over at Blake, to make sure that she doesn’t fuck their dinner up, but Jesus it’s hard. Her chest and her jeans feel far too tight, and she knows it’s her own damn fault, but when Blake looked at her, fell into her eyes, it was all Yang could do not to push her over and eat her out right there on the beach. 

Not exactly a first date thing, if that’s even what’s this was. 

The savory smell of the salmon sizzling away helps bring her back to reality, and eventually her breathing steadies and the tightness fades away. She takes a quick glance at Blake, who’s trained on the spiral motion of the waves, ears twitching every now and then. Her long hair rests on her back, black like sacred silks, and her arms are exposed, hidden strength and scars visible. 

_She’s really beautiful._ Yang thinks. The sun’s almost completely down now, reds turning to purples, purples to azures, and the moon is now visible, a rippling disc in the ocean waves. 

She’s known Blake for what, two days? Love at first sight isn’t real, she reminds herself. You’re just lonely. You’re just unhappy, and it’s not even close to acceptable to try and use Blake as a panacea for her internal strifes, _especially_ after what she’d been through. 

The steaks finish up quickly of course, and Yang’s not about to overcook them, even th9ugh she’s nervous as hell to face Blake again. She must have noticed, right? _She’s smart, she definitely noticed. Jesus, and after I told her I wasn’t-_

“Dinner is served!” Yang violently rips off the awkward bandaid and hands Blake a plate before realizing she absolutely forgot silverware. Oh well. 

She tries to make Blake feel less self conscious and grabs her steak, taking a massive bite out of it. It’s delicious, of course; it was hard to fuck up salmon steak as long as the cut was good, but she still finds herself watching Blake’s face carefully, sincerely hoping that the faunus will like her cooking. 

Blake gives her a very awkward smile before taking her first bite, and her demeanor instantly changes. It’s like the first bite wasn’t enough, and she immediately takes a second, a third, chewing rapidly and gleefully. 

“Damn Blake, do I have to hide my portion from you?” Yang asks as she watches Blake absolutely devour her dinner. 

“Yes.” She says flatly, wiping a grain of salt off her stupid perfect lips. “Are you gonna eat that?”

“Belladonna. You wouldn’t.” Yang pulls her plate protectively to her side with a bright smile. 

“I haven’t really uh,” Yang’s expecting another ironic jab, as Blake had proven herself so skillful at doing, but her tone is more somber and serious, like when she was talking about her home on Menagerie. “had a nice meal in a while.”

“Seriously? I thought you were uh…” Yang chooses her words carefully. “Kind of high ranked? Did the Fang not pay well?”

There’s a second of hesitation before Blake answers. “It… paid fine, but I didn’t really have a say in um. How it was spent.”

Yang’s blood turns to lava and flashes of Blake’s abused body race across her vision. “... was it that guy?”

Blake nods quickly, makes herself small. “Yeah.” 

“Blake, we don’t have to talk about this if it’s too much-“

“Adam Taurus.” Blake’s voice is barely above a whisper. “He was my- ex-boyfriend.”

Oh. That suddenly makes things so much worse.   
“Adam Taurus, as in, second in command of the White Fang, international drug syndicate, _Adam Taurus?_ ”

“That’s a lot more credit than he deserves.” Blake scoffs, hatred and sorrow supporting her words. “But yeah. That Adam.”

“I. Fuck.” Yang’s got a good vocabulary, but that’s the only word that sums up the situation. Even with the grill still on behind them, Blake just _feels_ cold, like her blood has cooled, depression and anger screwing with her physical temperature. 

“Why tell me?” Yang finally asks, cautiously scooting closer to Blake; there’s nothing romantic behind this though. She just wants to comfort her. Blake scoots over as well, till their shoulders are just touching. 

“I don’t know.” 

“It’s ok. You don’t have to know.”

Blake laughs and it’s full of sorrow. “Is that really true?” 

“Of course-“ Yang starts to drape an arm across her shoulders, remembers who Blake is and pauses: “Is it ok if I touch you?”

The nod’s slight, but it’s there, and Yang pulls Blake close to her side, hoping that some of her warmth will help her ground herself. 

“It’s ok.” Yang rubs her hand against her back. She doesn’t know if it’s ‘ok’, it’s probably not, but it’s all she can think to say in the moment. Blake shivers, before finally letting out a sigh. 

“Maybe one day it will be.” The words escape Blake’s lips like a prayer. 

“Yeah.” Yang can’t guarantee that it will be, but damn, does she wish she could. They watch the sun finally disappear together, with Yang’s armed wrapped around Blake and the latter’s head curled into her neck. 

They stay glued to each other’s sides and the motion of the waves becomes hypnotic, with even the occasional passing seagull passing by with a sorrowful cry. It’s completely natural when Yang’s eyes start to drop despite her best efforts, and a peaceful sleep finally overcomes her right there on the beach.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope this first chapter doesn't seem to rushed or too boring, but I wanted to go ahead and get started to motivate myself! Any sort of criticism or comment is totally welcome, 'n you can find me on Tumblr @Kuujimori!


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